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Jagger had broken up with LeAnn the week before graduation, and that next Monday she had walked right up to him and kissed him in front of everyone. Once Jagger had finally pushed her back and asked what she was doing since he’d broken up with her only days before, she gave him a look like he’d lost his mind and said, “But I never said we were done” with the air of someone who controlled the entire world. But Jagger had never been one to be controlled . . . and he’d more or less told her that he wasn’t going to wait around for the day that she was done with him, and broke up with her again. That same thing happened every day—sometimes multiple times a day—for the rest of the week. It wasn’t the first time any of us questioned her sanity, but we all just shrugged it off because it wasn’t a secret that she’d been obsessed with Jagger for years before they’d ever gotten together. But it wasn’t until after graduation that Jagger had finally figured out a way for LeAnn to leave him alone by telling her he didn’t want to put her through the hardship of a long-distance relationship, and they would be together again as soon as he moved back from college.
Not that anyone had thought he was serious. Well, except for LeAnn apparently.
The uneasy feeling I’d had when we sat down had quickly disappeared as we’d talked through everything, and I glanced back over at LeAnn. Her eyes glided in my direction, and she shot me a soft smile and waved before continuing the conversation with her date.
“Well, she definitely looks like she’s moving on from you, and away from the psych ward,” I mumbled as I looked back down at my menu.
Jagger huffed. “I know, and thank God.”
“And the look she just gave me was definitely not one that said she was pissed off at you or me.”
“Good. Maybe she did grow up and is already over it. The guy at the gas station pretty much said she’s been with most of the guys in Thatch. I’m glad they’re enough to get her over whatever happened.”
“Like I said, you really couldn’t expect a different reaction from her.”
My menu was suddenly pushed down, and Jagger set his hand over mine, his fingers gently squeezing my wrist. “As much as I love talking about LeAnn, can we change the subject?”
“But she’s such a fun topic,” I whispered sarcastically.
“About as fun as your mom telling us to use protection and asking if you had condoms.”
A sharp laugh burst from my chest, and I dropped my face into my free hand. “Oh God. Okay, neither of those subjects.”
Jagger’s phone rang, and after a glance at the screen, he quickly answered. “Hey, you okay? . . . You just usually call me early in the morning or late at night . . . All right. Well, hey, I’m about to have dinner with Grey, so I gotta run, but have fun tonight . . . Yeah, Charlie.” Jagger sighed and his eyes flashed up to mine before they focused on the table again. “Okay, just text me when you get back to the house.”
“Is she having fun?” I asked once he put his phone back on the table.
“Yeah, I guess one of their friends lives wherever they’re stopped today and tomorrow, and they’re going to a concert or something tonight.”
I waited for Jagger to look up at me, or at his menu, but he just sat there with his eyes still fixed on the table. “Is everything okay with her? You
seem . . . I don’t know, but your entire mood shifted when you were talking to her.”
Jagger blew out a long breath before looking at me, and his head subtly shook back and forth. “She’s just been kind of weird this summer. I don’t know what’s going on with her; she’ll just say things that are so unlike her. But it’s random, she’s Charlie most of the time, and then she’ll say something that—I don’t know, whatever. She’s fine.”
“You sure? We can leave so you can talk to her.”
“No, it’s not that serious.” Jagger’s lopsided smile quickly replaced the frown that had deepened as he’d talked to Charlie, but the smile looked forced. “Another subject we can leave alone for tonight, sound good?”
“Yeah, of course.”
He quickly changed the direction of the conversation by talking about the guy in Seattle who owned the gallery, and how long he’d been giving him his work to show and sell. And as that subject turned into Jagger’s drawings, and what he was working on now, his smiles came a little bit easier, but it was impossible to miss the vacant look in his eyes that stayed there for the rest of the night. Even when he dropped me off at my parents’ house hours later, I couldn’t help but wonder where Jagger’s mind was—because it was obvious it wasn’t with me.
Chapter 8
Jagger
July 24, 2014
STEPPING UP BEHIND Grey as she was putting plates in the dishwasher, I wrapped my arms around her waist and brushed my lips across her neck. A soft sigh blew past her lips, and as she leaned back against my chest, she tilted her head away so I had more access to her neck.
“Thanks for making lunch,” I mumbled against her skin before placing another kiss there.
“I really don’t know how you survived for two years on your own, Jag. I know I wasn’t feeding you since I wasn’t even feeding myself.” Her hand went up to the chain on her neck, and I tightened my arms around her.
“Microwavable food and takeout. My best friends.”
Grey laughed and dropped the ring she’d been grasping, then turned around in my arms to face me. “Obviously.” Her face fell and the tips of her fingers traced under my eyes for a few seconds before she repeated the words she’d been saying all morning. “You look so tired.”
